Post-Mission Decompression
by Ray by Another Name
Summary: Some headcanons - all set (and written) directly after each episode. Started with episode 5 of season 2. Covers the remainder of Season 2. Some episodes have multiple chapters. Chapter length will vary. Various ships and relationships will be explored as inspiration strikes. Rated K .
1. Say Again Your Last

Some headcanons - all set (and written) directly after each episode. Started with episode 5 of season 2. Some episodes have multiple chapters. Chapter length will vary. Various ships and relationships will be explored as inspiration strikes.

Rated K+.

Clay returns home and Stella looks after him (and Sonny) post mission.

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**Say Again Your Last**

Clay walked into his apartment rubbing his chest absently. Early morning light was starting to stream into the living room. Stella was sprawled out on the couch - her laptop was open, but dark, on the coffee table - and surrounded by books and stacks of papers.

Writing or grading.

Her hair was a wild tangle criss crossed over her face. She was wearing one of his flannel shirts and a pair of sweatpants with NAVY down the side.

Clay leaned against the wall by the door, just watching her chest rise and fall. He dropped his go-bag on the floor. The noise didn't pierce Stella's slumper. He smiled - she must have been exhausted then.

With careful steps Clay navigated through her whirlwind of graduate life to stoop down beside the couch. Stella 'hmmed' as he pushed hair away from her face. She curled inwards, instinctively moving closer to him.

It was no real effort to pick her up. Stella was light, easily cradled in his arms. The real trick was navigating back out of her maze without tripping.

Stella murmured in her sleep as he set her down on the bed. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, her hand came up to his chest.

"You're back," her eyes closed, her hand dropped back to the mattress. A smile spread across her face.

Clay swallowed, kissed her forehead, "Yeah. I'm back." He pulled the blanket over her body and walked towards the bathroom.

The cool water of the shower felt like icicles slicing through his chest. He grimaced, ducked his head under the spray. Trent's order to alternate ice and heat echoed in his head: did cold showers count as icing it?

When he walked back into the bedroom Clay found Stella sprawled out on her back, blanket tangled around her waist. He didn't bother with a shirt before crawling in beside her. Stella turned to curl into his side - kissed his shoulder without even opening her eyes.

"You have a bruise the size of a plate on your chest," Stella murmured against his skin as Clay pulled her against him.

He chuckled, fingers slipping into her hair, "I'm fine. Ice. Heat. Nothing special." She 'hmmed' against his chest. Clay slipped into sleep - Stella's warmth spreading across his flesh and her breathing a quiet lullaby.

Three hours later Stella stumbled, bleery-eyed, into the kitchen. 8 am had come much sooner than she would like, especially when it was succeeded by a text from Gordon cancelling their meeting.

"No, its fine," Stella grumbled as she yanked open the refrigerator, "It's not like a spent all night finishing that chapter for you to read." There were no leftovers in the fridge. Just milk, beer, and eggs.

A ragged thumping came from the front door. Stella startled, jumping at least a foot in the air and holding a hand to her chest. Then her brain reminded her that Clay was asleep and she was skidding across the room to open it.

"Stella!" Sonny greeted her, wide grin and heavy circles under his eyes, "Can Blondie come out to play?" Stella shook her head at him, hiding a smile behind her palm.

"He's asleep, Sonny," she nodded her head towards the bedroom he couldn't see. But she stepped back from the door, "Want some breakfast?"

Sonny entered with a tip of his head, removing his hat and jacket as Stella walked back to the kitchen.

"My advisor canceled on me and I have no leftovers," Stella talked over her shoulder, keeping her voice light. Sonny leaned against the island - looking altogether like a dusty outlaw who'd just lost a fight with John Wayne. "So, eggs or pancakes?"

"Now, Stella," Sonny smirked down at her as he pulled a stool out, "We both know the answer to that question."

She shook her head at him again, smiling openly this time.

"Both."

Stella offered him a beer as she pulled supplies out. Sonny took it and immediately swallowed down half the bottle before she had set down the carton of eggs.

"So why'd the professor cancel?" Sonny diverted from her pointed look. Stella grabbed a pack of bacon from the freezer. Sonny's lips quirked into a smike at the addition.

"Apparently," Stella drew out the word as the bacon began to defrost in the microwave. She moved around the kitchen in rough, jerky motions, "One of his undergrads requested an emergency meeting about the midterm."

Sonny raised an eyebrow as pancake mix was plopped into a bowl, "That code for something?"

Stella's smile was sharp and gritted. Sonny took a swig of his beer at the very sight. "The midterm is tomorrow. I'm the one who grades it, and this student hasn't shown up to section since the first day." Sonny nodded along as Stella whipped the battered together, "If he wants an emergency meeting, it should be with the admin office to beg for an exception to the drop deadline."

The batter was light and fluffy from Stella's ~attentive~ stirring. Sonny eyed the griddle in her hand warily, "Student's playin' kiss ass, huh?"

"Frat kid," Stella rolled her eyes, "I hate when people fulfill stereotypes." She gestured with the griddle before placing it on the stove, "Scrambled or Fried?"

"Eithers fine." Sonny leaned back in his chair, "So, why's the ass kisser gettin' you all riled up?"

Stella ducked her head, chuckling, "The ass kisser is the least of my worries. I'm meant to be finishing my dissertation by May, which is hard to do when my advisor is ducking the critiques last minute."

Sonny had no earthly idea what half that meant, and no real desire to parce that half out either, "Prof's not pulling his side of the bargain?" Stella nodded, "Want me to kick his ass for ya?"

The bark of laughter that escaped Stella's lips was loud and sharp. She immediately clasped a hand over her mouth, cheeks red with mirth as Sonny grinned. She slapped his shoulder with her free hand.

"Sonny Quinn," Stella warned, taking his empty beer bottle to gesture with, "Behave yourself." She gave him another beer as she went about frying bacon in a pan beside two eggs. Sonny kept on grinning.

It was only a few minutes later before the scent of bacon drew Clay in to the room. He scrunched his eyebrows together at Sonny, "Wha-"

"Stella here offered me breakfast," Sonny stole a piece of bacon off the small pile that Stella had just deposited on a plate. She slapped at his hand. "I've decided to steal her away from you."

Clay glared at him, wrapping an arm around Stella's waist as she kissed his cheek.

"I found her first," Clay watched from over her shoulder as Stella moved eggs and pancakes onto a plate.

She slid it across the counter to Sonny and turned her head to look at Clay, "Didn't you say Brian pointed me out to you?" Sonny laughed and slapped his hand on the counter.

"Well, yeah, but he was too slow," Clay squeezed his arm around her lightly, "I know quality when I see it."

"Good answer," Stella bopped him on the nose and turned back to the stove. Two more eggs were cracked and salted. "Guess that trip to Vegas will have to wait, Sonny."

Sonny made a scene of placing his hand on his heart, "Damn. Sideswiped again." Clay smiled into the crook of Stella's neck.

"No remorse," Clay stuck his tongue out at Sonny and stole a strip of bacon off his plate before the man could stop him.

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	2. Hold What You Got

Some headcanons - all set (and written) directly after each episode. Started with episode 5 of season 2. Some episodes have multiple chapters. Chapter length will vary. Various ships and relationships will be explored as inspiration strikes.

Rated K+.

Stella dealing with her emotions after Clay's departure - co-staring Naima 'The Awesome' Perry.

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**Hold What You Got**

Stella wiped at her face. She hadn't stopped crying the whole way home. Home. Clay's apartment. Closing the door behind her, Stella stood with pursed lips just inside.

Her things were dotted around the place. Beacons of clutter. Clay lived spartan. He barely lived here really. Even when his had been the only name on the lease she'd slept here more often than him.

She'd given up the room in her shared apartment months ago. The pretense of not living together forgotten once he returned from deployment. Hell, most of her stuff had migrated over during that deployment. It was harder to miss him when she was surrounded by his things.

"Ok," Stella took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back. With determined steps she walked into the bedroom. Clay's clothes littered the ground from when he stripped for bed the night before. Stella pushed a hand through her hair.

She wasn't wrong. Clay's job was his passion, his mission in life. He'd been training to be a SEAL since he knew what one was.

And given his father was one Stella would bet a fair anount that the spark had been lit very early.

The problem was her.

Stella sat on the bed. Deflating. When she laid back against the sheets she was encompassed in their scent. In the salty sweat, Clay's cheap cologne. The tears returned with a vengeance.

The problem was she didn't know if she could live with the fear. Naima could. Naima was fucking strength, walking. Stella had watched her the last few weeks - the funeral, the BBQs, the dinners.

Naima watched out for her kids and Jason's. She kept Sonny and Trent in line with simple looks. There was no falter in step, no flinch in her face when the topic had turned to Adam.

A year. Not even. And Clay had already lost two friends. Brian had died before he'd even made the damn cut.

Eventuality. That was the word she'd used to describe it to Clay earlier. The k ot in her stomach tightened.

God. Stella pressed the heel of her palms into her eyes. Why the hell had she'd said all that?! Why couldn't he just leave it alone until he got back? She would have wallowed and overanalyzed all by herself. Now he was aware she was doing it.

Now he would worry. And she couldn't fix it. She couldn't give him a better answer.

"I don't have a fucking answer!" Stella sprung back up. She took her shoe off and threw it at the wall. Hard. Then the other. The twin thumps echoed in the too empty apartment.

Her gaze lowered to the floor. Her shoes had fallen on top of Clay's discarded shirt. Stella lurched forward, picked it up. It was his brown henley tshirt. He wore it all the time. He'd said it was his favorite once, when she commandeered it months before.

Stella dropped the shirt on the bed. She grabbed her shoes and didn't pause to put them off before she walked out the door. She drove her car, not his, to campus.

There was nothing new for her to grade, but some hard core research for her dissertation was surely more than distracting enough.

…

It wasn't.

The research was interesting. All consuming even. But her brain was torn. Half it was on the psychological impact that writing had on Mary Shelley. The other half was on Clay - off somewhere dangerous. Getting shot at.

The bruise that had covered his chest had still been dark and tender. Clay had pretended it didn't hurt. Stella had pretended she didn't notice that it did.

Twice she was interrupt by a friend. Graduate stusents she hadn't spoken to much recently.

"Haven't seen you in forever?" "You still dating that Navy guy?" "How's the dissertation going?" "Where's the boyfriend?"

She'd been polite. Noncommittal.

Stella had figured out wjthin weeks that no one in her circle understood why she loved Clay. They understood the issues she was having even less. Her own mother had been pushing her to find someone with a more stable future.

"Damn it." Stella slammed the book she was reading shut. She untangled her legs and stood up from her position on the ground - mid stacks- where she'd been reading. She made it to her car before she started bawling again.

This was not who she wanted to be.

Strong. Independent. That's who she wanted to be.

Her phone rang. Stella dug it out of her bag. Her free hand wiping at her cheeks. Naima's name and number lit up the screen.

The knot in her stomach jumped to her chest. It felt like a boulder had taken up residency.

"Yeah?" Stella flinched at the crack in her voice.

"Stella?" Naima paused only a moment. Stella didn't make a sound. "I just dropped Emma off at home and was going to grab something to eat. Care to join me?" Stella scrunched her eyes shut. "I could use the company."

Stella chuckled, "Yeah. Sure." Her voice was watery, but it didn't crack or waver at least. "Burgers?"

"And beer," Naima added. Stella agreed to the first place Naima suggested. It was farther from campus, closer to the base. The drive gave her a chance to recollect herself.

The only evidence of her repeated breakdowns that day was the red rings around her eyes. And, honestly, Stella didn't bother trying to hide them.

Naima was kind enough not to mention them. Not till after they ordered anyway.

"How's the Ph.D. going?" Naima raised a fry to her mouth, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Stella nodded her head, picking bits off her burger, "It's going. Research has been a bit of a trog lately, but I'm on track."

"Mhm," Naima swallowed her fry, "So that very emotional convo in Clay's car? Not about the Ph.D.?" Stella flushed. "Yeah, we aren't all as observant as Jason."

Naima winked at her and Stella took a long sip of her soda. The ate silent for several minutes, Naima was more than comfortable to let the uncomfortable air linger.

Stella broke first, "I'm not sure I can…I can do this." Her hand moved to her hair as she took a deep breath, "The worry, the fear." She let out a watery chuckle. "The inevitable heartbreak."

"Stella," Naima's hand wrapped around her wrist. Stella met the woman's fierce gaze, "You have to ask yourself one question: What's worse?"

"What's worse?" Stella raised an eyebrow.

Naima released her wrist, "Having him now, good and bad, for as long as you can. Or. Never having him at all."

"Lose him now or lose him later."

The only answer Naima provided was a shrug as she took a bite of her burger. Stella leaned back in her chair.

"That's a simplification of a very complex issue."

Naima chuckled, her cheeks pulled up in a smile, "In my experience, answering the big question, answers the little ones."

Stella nodded, her mind zooming forward - through ever future she could imagine. And she could imagine quite a lot.

"Stella?" Naima wiped her hands on a napkin, burger finished and plate empty.

"Longer would be better, obviously, but…"

Naima raised a hand, "Nope, no buts. You've got the big question down, you handle the little questions one at a time."

Blowing out a breath, Stella stared down at her mostly full plate. The idea of eating literally turned her stomache.

"What's the first question Stella?"

Stella looked up. Naima was leaning back in her chair, lips pursed, arms crossed.

"How do I manage being scared so that I don't freak him out?" Naima shook her head. "How do I distract myself?"

Naimed cracked a smile, "Closer. But I suppose thinking in big questions is how you write a dissertation, so we can work on that."

Stella snorted, "You AND my thesis advisor." She took a deep breath, "So how do you do it?" Naima reached for her drink, eyes scrunched up. "All the little questions."

"Well, two young children is a hell of a distraction," Naima blew out a breath, "Mostly its people though. Friends. Other wives. They help me through the rough patches."

"Like you're doing for me?" Stella tilted her head, smiling, "Which I appreciate by the way." Naima nodded, another smile pushing up her cheeks.

The silence that descended on the two this time was more comfortable. Stella managed three bites of her burger, which settled the twisted knot into a solid boulder. When they parted ways Stella could at least say she didn't feel like crying. A first for the day.

The apartment was still empty when Stella opened the door. No surprise there. Her computer was blinking on the coffee table though. One missed call from Clay.

The boulder sunk a little further and Stella ran for the bathroom. The burger had a much more distinct taste coming back up than she remembered it going down. Water and a teeth brushing later Stella curled up on the bed wearing Clay's shirt in what she was pretending wasn't the biggest cliche ever.

"Big questions first" Stella breathed out. She closed her eyes. Breathed in. Clay's cheap ass cologne smelled like a sweaty pine tree. But it made her smile.

Stella reached over to the top drawer of her nightstand. It didn't take much rummaging to find what she was looking for - hidden inside the front cover of a copy of Charlotte Bronte's Villette was a long black cord slipped through a ring like the chain of a necklace.

"Big questions…" Stella fingered the plied ripcord ring. It fit her. She didn't know how Clay knew her ring size, or managed to correctly wrap the cord into it while high on morphine.

She slipped the cord over her neck. The ring fell like a pendant down her chest as she sat up. Stella didn't call him back. Her mental state wasn't doing that well. But she did send him a message.

I'll be here when you get back. Be safe.

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	3. Outside the Wire

Some headcanons - all set (and written) directly after each episode. Started with episode 5 of season 2. Some episodes have multiple chapters. Chapter length will vary. Various ships and relationships will be explored as inspiration strikes.

Rated K+.

Sonny does not appreciate the forced exposure of his responsible side, but he will unleash it upon those who need it.

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**Outside the Wire**

Sonny Quinn had now been called responsible twice in less than six hours, by two different people.

Good Lord did he need another beer!

He was placing the blame for his newly exposed responsible side squarely on the shoulders of young Spenser. He'd never had to be responsible this often before the kid had joined the team.

Sonny cracked open the aforementioned beer and propped his feet up on the card table he was sitting at. He'd dropped Clay off on the 'comfy' couch. So no TV, but! This shit-faced excuse for an FOB did have wifi. And people say there's no such thing as miracles.

It wasn't tequila. Or even budweiser. But cheap Mexican beer was still beer. Sonny took a long drag of it, let the taste of rye wheat fill his mouth.

"First time I have to drag your ass back from a bar," Sonny grumbled as he logged onto his laptop, "Case of beer." He fitzed about on the internet, avoiding news as best he could, before clicking the Skype icon on his desktop.

His mind had inevitably spiraled to Her and Sonny was not here for that. It was the same time back home in Texas - not even his insomniac sister was online.

Hmm. Sonny typed the username before he could second guess. Sure enough. She came up, online even.

I do believe your up past your bedtime, Miss Stella.

It was Spenser's fault. Kid was just too easy to pick on whenever Stella was onscreen. He'd caught her username one time or another.

Grading knows no difference, AM or PM.

Sonny raised an eyebrow, second beer pressed to his lip. He hadn't actually expected an answer.

Romeo tells me his Juliet has split. That true?

Might have been a little too straightforward there, but it wasn't like he was going to ask Spenser about his feelings. Kid wore 'em on his damn sleeves.

Idk.

Very informative. Real literary genius. Sonny rolled his eyes.

What did Clay say?

Oh ho ho.

Sonny set his empty beer bottle on the ground and cracked his knuckles. Waited.

Sonny?

Wouldn't you like to know. But a man never rats out his brothers.

He'd barely tapped enter on the message before his screen was ringing with a video chat. Sonny hit accept and was graced with the red-ringed eyes of Stella Baxter glaring at him.

"Name your price."

Sonny raised an eyebrow, and straightened in his chair. The computer moved from his lap to the card table as his feet hit the floor.

"Evenin', Stella," Sonny tipped his hat brim. He didn't smile. He hadn't been aware one could look more pathetic than a mopey and drunk Clay Spenser. Stella managed it.

Her eyes were ringed red, with splotchy blue beneath them evidence of a few nights missed sleep. Her cheeks were puffy, her hair messy and frizzled, and…very obviously wearing Clay's shirt in the man's apartment.

"What did he say, Sonny?" Stella pushed. Her eyes wide and her lip trembling.

Sonny shrugged, "Not much." He nodded his head, "Drank his weight in tequila before I lugged his ass back home."

Stella swallowed, her throat bobbed slightly.

"I don't much like the idea of competing for team drinker," Sonny rambled on, looking away as Stella rubbed at her eyes. "Don't suppose you two could get to the repair part of this little tiff? Sooner, rather than later?"

A watery laugh echoed from the computer.

Sonny looked back to see Stella bobbing her head. Great. Crying woman. Perfect end to the perfect night.

"Goodnight Sonny," Stella pursed her lips, gave what he thought might be a wave, and then he was looking at a blue screen with Call Ended in white letters.

With a heavy sigh, Sonny stood up and closed the laptop. Apparantly his time as the Voice of Reason was not quite over.

"Two cases of beer," Sonny grumbled as he walked back to their hooch. Fixing his own damn mistakes in someone else's life was worth at least two.

When he entered the dark room he found Spenser splayed out of the floor, the blanket scrunched up in his arms. No puke. Good sign.

"Stella," the kid whined. A quiet murmur in the silent room.

Three cases. Sonny had the brand picked out as he kicked Clay's side. The kid started awake with a groan and a hand to his chest.

"Alright, Spenser, time for you to give me the full story." Sonny plopped on the couch and put his feet on Spenser's stomach as the kid rolled over. "Dr. Quinn is in."

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	4. Parallax

Some headcanons - all set (and written) directly after each episode. Started with episode 5 of season 2. Some episodes have multiple chapters. Chapter length will vary. Various ships and relationships will be explored as inspiration strikes.

Rated K+.

Some snippets into the minds of half of Bravo.

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**Parallax**

Clay's voice was loud in his ear as he jumped from the van. It bled into a ringing noise as he hit the hard concrete and his vision went dark.

Barking replaced it in slow, gradual intervals as color returned. Brock blinked rapidly before finding himself in his own backyard. Cerberus was next to him, ass in the grass and tongue hanging out.

"What are you so happy about?" Brock knocked him with his knee. Cerberus whined until Brock plopped down next to him. "Why are you so happy?"

A glance forward answered that question.

Vanessa was visible through the screen. She was dancing in the kitchen, a wooden cooking spoon in one hand as a pan in front of her simmered. The tell-tale smell of beef flowed through the air.

"Greedy," Brock snickered as he scratched behind Cerberus' ear. The dog plopped his head in Brock's lap and aimed some def-con force puppy eyes at his handler.

"Reynolds!" Vanessa called from the doorway, waving her wooden spoon at him. Her voice was muffled, "Dinner's ready! Hurry up!"

Cerberus went running for the food, a happy bark in greeting before sliding through Vanessa's legs. Brock laughed, his chest went tight. He choked on his laughter, coughing harshly.

He could smell smoke, gasoline. Brock tried to take a deep breath and ended up with his vision blacking out.

-.-.-

He's not sure whether the light is from the RPG's blast or some version of God's light telling him he's about to see his life pass before his eyes. It doesn't happen though, instead Clay blinks to find himself back on the beach where he learned to swim.

"You know how pissed I'll be, some officer comes knocking on my door?" The voice is lilted and familiar, a thick accent that is both comforting and infuriating.

Sadly, its not Sonny's ugly mug next to him.

His mother's smile is big and bright. "Hey Clayface."

"Mom," Clay swallows hard and his eyes scan her face. Even in his head her eyes are ringed with dark circles and pupils pinpricked.

A ball of shame forma in his chest. Even here in his safe place he can't separate his mother from her demons - and here, that's on him.

Her fingertips are warm on his face as she turns his face, "Even when he left me, I still worried. Still jumped when the doorbell rang."

"I know," Clay bit his lip, "I remember."

"Ruined his plan," she shook her head, blond hair spinning around her. Clay smiled as her laughter filled the space between them. "I do so love to ruin his plans."

"I thought I could do better," Clay admits as her hand falls to his shoulder. He feels her squeeze him, pulling him closer.

Her hand moved to his neck, fingers curling into the hair at his neck. Clay leaned into the touch.

"It takes two, preferably stubborn and strong headed." Her laugh echoed off the sand, mixing with the crashing waves.

His eyes felt heavy. There was a darkness edging at his vision.

"You only lose, if you give up before the game is over."

-.-.-

There is no fiddle music in heaven. Not even rockabilly. It's just…quiet. Which puts Sonny on edge immediately because he's standing at a bar. An empty bar.

"Oh, if this is heaven -" Sonny spun in place, taking in the wood paneling and the neon signs "- I request a transfer." The signs were off. The jukebox was silent. And there were no cues on the pool table.

A too-familiar chuckle sent a cold chill down his spine. When he turned again, she was standing behind the bar.

"Sonny-Bear."

The desire to stab someone had never been so strong - and he'd won more than his fair share of knife fights.

"What in the hell -"

Her hearty laugh had his stomach clenching and bile rising in his throat. He took a step back, away from She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Hell. He was definitely in hell.

"So, what beings you to my bar this time?" Her voice was light. Gooseflesh bloomed up and down his arms.

Sonny opened his mouth - intent on cursing her out for all the heartache she'd caused and telling her just how little interest he had in being anywhere near here. No words came out.

~Bravo 3! Sit-rep!~

Davis voice called in his ear. Sonny reached for his comms, but felt nothing. Her voice called out again as his vision blurred and the bar went out of focus.

~Bravo 3!~

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	5. Santa Muerte

Some headcanons - all set (and written) directly after each episode. Started with episode 5 of season 2. Some episodes have multiple chapters. Chapter length will vary. Various ships and relationships will be explored as inspiration strikes.

Rated K+.

Naima can feel a disturbance in the force.

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**Santa Muerte**

Naima was on the verge of falling asleep on the countertop when her laptop pinged. She shuffled across the kitchen, Sharif balanced on her hip as he dozed against her chest. He'd fallen asleep -after- Emma had taken Jameelah to school because that was how life worked. Never the path of least resistance.

The pinged had been an email. She clicked into her inbox to see Ray's name at the top.

"Daddy sent us an email," Naima murmured against Sharif's head. He murmured, shifting in his sleep. She kissed the crown of his head and clicked on the message.

Safe. Mission moving forward. Love you.

It was the shortest email Naima had ever received.

Alarm bells went off in her head as she read it again. Ray called, always, when he needed to talk. They were practically in the same time zone compared to his usual deployments.

"Raymond Perry," Naima closed her eyes, sent a silent prayer heavenward and reached over to start another pot of coffee.

Sharif squirmed in her arms. Naima shushed up, bouncing him slightly as she moved around the kitchen, her mind much more alert.

Ray's emails were typically long, rambling questions about the kids and the occassional anecdote about Sonny or Trent. His last phone call had included a half hour about his worry for Clay's head space.

"Yup, definitely something afoot," Naima looked at Sharif, a strained smile on her lips. He started to fuss, waking as her anxiety disrupted his peaceful slumber.

She glanced at the clock. It was almost 8. She stroded to the television, picked up the remote, and flipped to the baby channel. Some incessant singing was coming to a closer.

Once she had Sharif properly distracted with his blanket, binky, and baby einsteins Naima was left standing in the kitchen with her cell phone. The number was only for emergency - a SAT phone that Davis kept on her person at all times.

Safe. Mission moving forward. Love you.

Naima dialed.

"What's wrong?" Davis voice was strained, tired, like she couldn't take another hit. It worried Naima almost as much as that damned email.

"You tell me," Naima kept her own voice soft, even. Davis let out a huffed chuckled that crackled over the line. "How're the boys?"

"Sleeping off the night, hopefully." Davis gave another laugh - higher this time - and blew out a breath.

The coffeemaker beeped. Naima grabbed a mug from the drying rack, "And how're you, Lisa?"

No laughter, not even one in dark humor.

"Lisa?"

"It was a rough one, Naima." Davis' voice was nearly a whisper as she continued, "And its not over yet."

"The important thing is that you all come home."

Naima's throat felt tight as she swallowed down the coffee. There was a crackling over the line that told her Davis was breathing.

"Lisa?"

"They haven't debriefed yet," Davis pushed foward, her voice going flat and professional, "But there was a moral dilemma." She paused, "A prisoner's right to last rites."

There was a line. It separated shareable facts from mission details. Davis was probably stepping on the line.

Naima got the measure. "Ray's struggling." He'd struggled before - his faith and his duty. Davis knew that as well as she did. "That's not what's bothering you."

The chuckle returned. Tight. Naima leaned against her counter.

"There's a lot of variables," Davis said. Her words slurred together as she spoke and Naima imagined her sitting at a table, blinking sleep away as she tried to keep working.

"Go get some rest, Petty Officer," Naima scolded, shaking her head at the immediate rebuttal. She talked over Davis, "If the boys were up last night, so were you."

Davis grumbled, "Not till I know they're safe." Naima raised an eyebrow, set her coffee back down.

It wasn't an odd statement. Except for the part where she'd already mentioned them being asleep. Back on base.

"You can't keep them safe if you're too exhausted to see the danger." And Naima wanted someone with sharp eyes watching out for Ray if even their damn base wasn't safe.

"Alright," Davis huffed out another breath. Naima took pride in the sound of scrapping metal. She picture Davis getting out of whatever chair she'd been in, likely for hours, double checking details she probably knew by heart.

Naima smiled, picked her coffee back up, "Take care the boys for me." Davis laughed, high and light. "And yourself."

"I'll tell Ray to call when he gets up."

The familiar click was harsh. Naima swallowed another sip of coffee and tossed her cell on the counter. Ray was struggling, Davis was worried. She knew from Emma's voicemails that Jason was acclimating.

"Good Lord," Naima looked up at her ceiling. A manic smile spread across her face. "I need a nap."

Sharif squawked from his playpen. Naima set her mug back down again and pushed off from the counter. No rest for the weary.

* * *

There was no confirmed name for Naima and Ray's son, so I picked one that I thought meshed with Jameelah's in meaning and origin. Later chapters include the canon name. I like mine better. ;)

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	6. Santa Muerte 2

Some headcanons - all set (and written) directly after each episode. Started with episode 5 of season 2. Some episodes have multiple chapters. Chapter length will vary. Various ships and relationships will be explored as inspiration strikes.

Rated K+.

Jason looking in on his men afterwards.

* * *

**Santa Muerte 2**

Jason brushed through their quarters, eyes flitting from doorwag to doorway as he passed. He took in each man with a reassuring breath. They were here, alive, safe. The tension in his shoulders didn't release as he passed the makeshift hallway, but his mind slowly calmed.

Ray had been quiet since they'd gotten back, sacked out almost immediately when Blackburn dismissed them. He was curled up on his side, back to the door, and his laptop closed beside the bed. Jason thought of Naima, working afternoons at the hospital, looking after what essentially added up to four kids.

He owed her a called, and a weekend or six off when they got back. Ray twitched in his bed. Jason moved on.

Brock was still awake. He had Cerberus up on the cot, likely threatening its structural integrity with the added weight. Cerberus was enduring kissy faces that had laughter emitting from the open laptop on the stool beside the bed.

"Aw, Cerb, don't you miss me?" Vanessa's voice was light, half-giggling, and Cerberus dutifully licked Brock's face. Brock shook a hand down Cerberus' back as Vanessa's laughter filled the cubbyhole once more.

Sonny was next, but he wasn't in his bunk. He was sitting on the couch with the tv on mute, staring blindly at the screen. A beer in his hand and two bottles at his feet.

It was, much to Jason's discomfort, business as usual for the Texan. He pivoted, eyes landing on Spenser next.

The kid was sprawled out on his stomach, one leg barely managing to stay bedborn as it teetered on the edge. He had one arm squashed up underneath his head alongside a pillow, snoring lightly.

His laptop was open and bright above his head. Jason recognized Stella's face in a number of pictures. Her smile was tight, even surrounded by what Jason assumed were her friends.

Mikey popped into his head then. Very much unreasonably, but not wholly unwelcome.

Clay had never mentioned that he saw himself as following his father's footsteps, Seaver had told Jason he suspected quite the opposite. Either way, Clay was driven by the shadow of his father.

Jason knew his son, not even out of middle school yet, had grand aspirations of serving like he did. His throat tightened as he watched Clay mumble in his sleep and pull at the blanket that Sonny wouldn't admit to throwing over the kid.

"You okay, boss?" Sonny's voice was quiet in the room, but it was loud as it tore through his thoughts. When he turned he found Sonny looking at him over the back of the couch, eyebrow raised, and Trent standing behind the man. The exact same eyebrow raised on his face.

He chuckled, pointed to the two, "You two spend way too much time together." Trent rolled his eyes as Sonny clutched at his chest in mock offense.

Jason took a seat beside Sonny on the couch, accepted the beer Trent offered him. He pushed all thoughts out of his head and sunk into the cushions. His men were alive, safe for now. He rubbed his right hand on his leg. Best he could ask for.

* * *

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	7. Prisoner's Dilemma

Some headcanons - all set (and written) directly after each episode. Started with episode 5 of season 2. Some episodes have multiple chapters. Chapter length will vary. Various ships and relationships will be explored as inspiration strikes.

Rated K+.

I was very dissatisfied with the end of this episode (barring the Jason and Sonny scenes) so...I fixed it.

* * *

**Prisoner's Dilemma  
**

Ray wrapped his arms around Naima. The sweet scent of her hair and the spice of her perfume waifed up to his nose. He bured his face in the crook of her neck.

Closing his eyes, Ray breathed in the scents of home. His soul felt heavy, his shoulders tense.

"What do you need?" Naima nuzzled his shoulder, kissing the base of his neck.

Ray shook his head, squeezed tighter. "What time does Jameelah finish school today?"

"3:30, no ballet this week" Naima ran a hand up and down his side.

"You gotta work today?" Ray stroked his hand down her back. She nodded.

"Shift starts at 4." Naima said, "Vanessa was going to stay with the kids tonight."

Ray chuckled, kissed the top of her head. "Brock and Cerberus might bave a problem with that." Naima laughed. "I'll pick her up."

"She'll love that." Naima pulled back to smile at him, his hands came go rest on her shoulders. "She learned how to make cookies while you were gone, been wanting to show you."

"Really now?" Ray's lips twirked up, "Chocolate chip?" Naima nodded. "Yeah!" The two devolved back into their embrace, laughter falling easily from their lips.

His shoulders relaxed a bit. Ray took another deep breath. The spicy and the sweet mingled together in his nostrils. Naima's fingers grazed over the back of his neck.

"I missed you," Ray said against the crown of her head. She planted a kiss on his shoulder

"I know," Naima sighed, pressing closer.

-.-.-

Stella heard he was back from Naima. The Kurdish woman had sent her a text and Stella had been halfway to Clay's place before her brain caught up with her. She argued with herself relentlessly before she found herself standing in his hallway.

The door was only another three feet. She might as well check on him, right? And she was back in the parking lot. The hallway. The parking lot. The hallway…

He stepped out of his door.

Stella froze before he even turned to see her. She watched the shock, and then the joy, flit across his face before Clay could clamp down his usual mask of arrogance.

"Stella," Clay's smile was tight as he stepped closer. The swagger in his steps was just a bit off. "I didn't expect…" He gestured back his apartment. "…after."

"I didn't want to presume," Stella heard her voice crack. "It's your apartment, and, we're not…" she swallowed, eyes glued to his face. The cuts and scratches and bruises. "We haven't talked."

When Stella's back hit the wall, she gasped, and then she was melting into Clay's searing kiss. Her hands buried in his blond curls.

"I missed you," Stella murmured against his lips.

Clay's fingers tightened on her hips. He held her against him, one arm moving to wrap around her waist. Stella's mouth moved to his neck, nipping at his pulse point. Clay groaned. His head lulling back.

In swift strides Clay moved her from the wall to his door, his lips recapturing hers as his hand fiddled with the door knob. Stella arched up, into him, as the door gave way.

They stumbled into the apartment, feet clumsy and hands desperate. Stella moaned into his mouth as her hips found perchase on the armrest of the couch.

Clay gasped, body paused over hers after she dragged him backwards with her into the cushions. They breathed heavily, mouths mere centimeters apart.

"I missed you too," Clay's eyes locked on hers. Stella gulped down air. The intensity of the blue sent shocks through her body, the feeling pooled like syrup in her gut.

-.-.-

Ray stood outside the elementary school, leaning against his car in the pick up lane. There were a few other parents - mostly mothers, but he got the dad nod from a few other men.

When Jameelah came out of the school she was chatting with another little girl. Naima's dark hair was a prominent feature on their daughter, it was tied back with a ribbon and flow down her back like a waterfall.

"Daddy!" Jameelah screeched and came running. Cheeks red and round from a toothy grin and thick hair flying. Ray stooped, caught her in a bear hug and stood to spin.

The giggling in his ear had Ray's heart soaring. "Hey, baby girl," Ray did a full circle on his heels, "How was school?"

Jameelah waved back at her friend as he opened the backseat of the SUV. She began to talk excitedly. He buckled her in and started the car to the sweet music of playground gossip.

Her spelling test, a disagreement about swing etiquette, and Ms. Jameson's latest history lesson.

Sharif dozed beside her in his carseat - blanket tangled around his right foot and cluched in his left hand.

Jameelah had kissed the boy's head before acquiescing to her booster seat. When he squirmed and cried, she paused to watch him, fixed his blanket.

It was easily the cutest thing he'd ever seen.

"So, Mama tells me you learned to make cookies while I was gone?" Ray raised an eyebrow at the rearview.

Jameelah squealed, "Can I make them when we get home?" Ray smiled as she bounced, hindered in height by the seat belt.

"That depends," Ray watched her eyes widen, "Can I be your taste tester?" Jameelah laughed. "After homework, first thing, okay?"

A vigorous nod was her answer, "I've missed you Daddy."

"Missed you too, princess."

-.-.-

Vanessa hummed as she chopped veggies. Cerberus curled on the floor. He whined softly when she moved from the island to the fridge, his head popping up to pout as she dug in the shelves.

"Don't worry, baby," Vanessa smiled down at the dog as she crossed back to the counter with a container full of marinating meat. Cerberus barked the second she opened the lid.

"I don't think that's for you, buddy," Brock entered the kitchen with a towel in hand, drying his hair. His face was split by a toothy grin.

Vanessa blew him a kiss as she began transferring the meat on to a grill pan. Brock let the towel rest around his neck and leaned against the counter.

Cereberus followed the woman as she crossed to the stove. Brock just watched as she cooked. Vanessa hummed, her feet and hips shifting to whatever beat played in her head.

Small bites of meat invariably ended up veing thrown to the dog, who took them with gusto and a grateful nuzzle of Vanessa's leg.

"You're just a spolied pup, aren't you?" Brock knocked Cerberus with his hand as he came up to wrap an arm around Vanessa. Cerberus whined. "Hey, I married her, its my turn."

Brock nuzzled Vanessa's neck, eliciting a giggle, "Competing with Cerb now?"

"For your affection?" Brock kissed her check, "Always." She laughed, head falling back against Brock's shoulder.

With a quick kiss to his cheek and a pat of Cerberus' head Vanessa returned the skillet back across the kitchen to rest the meat on a cutting board.

"I only married you for the dog anyway, so its understandable." She tossed the statement over her shoulder and then burst into a fit of giggles at Brock's faux offense.

He gestured to her and looked at the dog, "You believe this?" Cerberus stalked over to sit beside Vanessa again. "Traitor."

"He missed me, is all," Vanessa defended, rubbing her foot over Cerberus' belly. Her hands were busy with the veggies. He whined, cuddled closer to her.

Brock pouted, "I missed you too." Vanessa smiled at him over her shoulder and he immediately stepped up behind her again. With his arms wrapped around the most beautiful woman in the world and his dog at their feet, Brock was positive he was officially the luckiest man on the planet.

* * *

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	8. Backwards in High Heels

Some headcanons - all set (and written) directly after each episode. Started with episode 5 of season 2. Some episodes have multiple chapters. Chapter length will vary. Various ships and relationships will be explored as inspiration strikes.

Rated K+.

A chapter started and then left wholly lacking.

* * *

**Backwards in High Heels  
**

Kairos didn't know what had gone down in Mexico, but something was definitely off. Mostly with Spenser. The kid was usually far chattier than he had been - busting Sonny's balls was basically the kid's favorite hobby.

Usually, Kairos would just ignore it, but he'd caught Hayes and Perry checking on the kid. Not to mention Sonny's less than passive surveillance. If Sonny was worried…

"What's going on with Spenser?" Kairos had decided to ask Reynolds - Brock was probably the quietest on the team and that usually meant observant in Kairos' experience.

Brock just shrugged from the bench in his cage, "Girl problem." The man had not looked up from brushing Cerberus.

Kairos took that with a grain of salt, and then pondered what the hell was going on with Sonny.

"Girl problem," Trent winked at him when Kairos questioned the Texan's behavioral shifts.

At this point, Kairos was afraid to ask about Hayes or Ray.

* * *

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	9. Backwards in High Heels 2

Some headcanons - all set (and written) directly after each episode. Started with episode 5 of season 2. Some episodes have multiple chapters. Chapter length will vary. Various ships and relationships will be explored as inspiration strikes.

Rated K+.

* * *

**Backwards in High Heels 2  
**

This was the best morning of Sonny's life. Period.

And he hadn't even gotten up yet. There was a solid weight on his shoulder and against his side that told him Davis was still there - pressed solidly against him.

Sonny smiled. He was almost afraid to open his eyes, might break the spell. That fear was more than enough to tell him that the weight in his chest was more than a lustful after- effect of a good night in the sack.

Not that there'd been any sex. Oh, there'd been some more kissing, and all manner of touching, but his jeans had stayed on and zipper zipped. It might have been a while since Sonny tried this whole serious relationship thing, but he did remember something about rushing into bed.

And Sonny was bound and determined not to screw this up. Davis wasn't some frog hog or a bar bunny - she was his friend, and she could probably kick his ass. Mama Quinn would approve.

Now if that wasn't a terrifying enough thought…

Sonny opened his eyes. Davis was right where she'd been when he fell asleep: on her side, chest against his, head half on his shoulder, with her hair draped over his arm. Not any easy position to disentangle from.

For the first time in many a years, Sonny didn't feel the need. He could hold Davis in his arms forever. Shit. That was corny. He was going soft. He glanced at Davis' face - relaxed, open, lips a little bruised. Soft wasn't all bad.

* * *

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	10. Things Not Seen

Some headcanons - all set (and written) directly after each episode. Started with episode 5 of season 2. Some episodes have multiple chapters. Chapter length will vary. Various ships and relationships will be explored as inspiration strikes.

Rated K+.

Clay goes to Sonny first, then Jason. Why is that not the thing he has to worry about first?

AKA: The first time I've ever been happy with a scene I wrote in Jason's perspective.

* * *

**Things Not Seen  
**

Sonny had shown up on his door step with a grim face, a case of beer, and Clay - anger in his eyes and jaw set tight. Jason was aware that his night in on the couch with his children watching Spider-Man had just been rescheduled.

"What's up?" Jason led the two into his kitchen. Sonny leaned against the counter, cracked open his first beer.

The long drag was an omen.

"My father's publishing another book," Clay's arms went wide as a manic smile broke across his face. "And in one of his interviews he dished on details from one of ~our~ missions!"

Jason raised an eyebrow, looked from Clay to Sonny - who grimaced and nodded - and back to Clay. The blond was rubbing the back of his head.

"He cited a 'SEAL on the team.'" Clay's officially pacing his kitchen. Jason would say that's his job, but the kid appears to be mid-crisis so he keeps it to himself.

"You sure about this Clay?" Jason held the younger man's eyes. The kid paused mid-lap to look at him - eyes wide and tinged with worry. "You think someone's compromised the team?"

Clay shrugged, "I know it wasn't me, and Sonny's been pretty vocal about his ~distaste~ for Ash." Jason filed away Clay's use of his father's first name as part of the kid's daddy issue schtick and looked to Sonny.

"A distaste which just gets stronger with time," Sonny smiled, big and fake and - shit, Jason was going to have to talk to Davis about whatever the hell was going on with the cowboy later cause he was already on beer two. "Kid called me mid-panic after ditching his old man at the bar. Hope you stuck him with the tab."

Sonny turned to eye the kid as Clay balked, "I was not ~mid-panic.~" Jason didn't comment as Sonny lightly teased Spenser. His mind was already cycling through who in his chain of command they had to take this too first.

Later, when everything had blown over, he'd address why the hell the kid had gone to Sonny first.

"When did he give the interview?"

Clay shrugged again, "I saw it an hour ago."

"Which mission?"

"Saudia Arabia."

Jason grimaced. That would not go over well.

"Brass is gonna think it's me." Clay was staring at the sink, not meeting either of their gazes.

"We've got your back," Sonny looked like he might just punch a wall. Jason wasn't totally adverse to the idea - except then he'd have to spackle and repaint.

"Harrington or Blackburn," Jason breathed out, hands on his head, eyes on the ceiling, "Take your pick, cause we're waking somebody up."

It wasn't late enough to actually wake anyone, but interrupting their commander or his boss during dinner wasn't really a step above though.

Jason looked back at the two. Sonny was on beer three - definitely talking to Davis. Clay probably looked as terrified as he'd ever seen him. How the hell does a 28 year old look 12? How?!

Jason pulled out his cell with a sigh, "I'll make the call kid. Just relax."

* * *

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	11. Time to Shine

Some headcanons - all set (and written) directly after each episode. Started with episode 5 of season 2. Some episodes have multiple chapters. Chapter length will vary. Various ships and relationships will be explored as inspiration strikes.

Rated K+.

* * *

**Time to Shine  
**

When the door opened Davis flinched to attention, but the only one standing in front of her was Trent. Hands in pocket and looking pointedly at the wall, "They got him out. He's alive."

Davis gasped, a chocked sob escaped her throat, "Thank god." Trent nodded, reached a hand out to help her up.

"Sonny's too stubborn to die," Trent clapped her on the shoulder, grinning. Davis took a steadying breath. "Though now he's got experience to back up those damn phobias of his."

"Oh, god…" Davis groaned, her laughter croaking out as she pressed a hand to her face. "He'll be impossible." She took another breath. When she met Trent's eyes there was a nervous concern staring back at her. Davis knocked his shoulder, "Don't be goin'all soft on me now."

Trent chuckled, "Never." A twinkle appeared in his eyes, "That's Sonny's job." Davis flushed. And Trent grinned, "Ah-ha, thought so." He turned on his heels and went back into the briefing room.

Davis closed her eyes, sighed, and followed him.

-.-.-.-

"So…" Clay propped his feet up on Sonny's bed. "When were you gonna mention your thing with Davis?" Sonny didn't answer. The man was still unconscious, but that was no excuse.

Ray and Blackburn had finally strong armed Jason into a bunk. Clay had agreed to stand, or sit, watch with Sonny until Mandy could arrange another transport.

"I mean, she's basically the team sister," Clay laced his fingers behind his head. "Forget fraternization, that's basically incest."

The sub's ceiling looked exactly the same as it's floor. Grey. Boring. Not nearly distracting enough.

"Actually, since fraternization has the word from brothers in it, isn't it already incest?" Clay puckered his bottom lip as he looked at Sonny. "No comment?"

Sonny was hooked up to a monitor. His breathing and heart rate were both stable, consistent. The corpsman had already absconded to other parts of the boat.

"Personally," Clay grinned to himself, "I'm all for anything that gets your sorry ass out of my hair." His smile falter for just a second. "Temporarily, of course."

Clay didn't want to admit. Would never do so out loud. But Sonny was more than half the reason he'd gotten through the last few months. The annoying big brother he'd never asked for or wanted.

"Do me a favor though," Clay looked back at the ceiling, voice low, "Don't do that again." He wasn't sure if he was referring to the dying bit or the torpedo tube bit. "Not sure Davis will ever forgive us, losing you on a mission."

A chuckle drew Clay's attention to the bed again. Sonny hadn't opened his eyes, "Not scared of little ol' Davis now, are ya buddy?"

Clay dropped his feet to the floor, leaning forward, "Did I say that? Cause, pretty sure I didn't."

"Ain't what I heard."

"Well, you were without oxygen for a while, hallucinations are normal."

"Asshole," Sonny chuckled again. His voice scratchy and quiet. Clay swallowed around a lump in his throat.

"Love you too, Sonny."

* * *

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	12. What Appears to Be

Some headcanons - all set (and written) directly after each episode. Started with episode 5 of season 2. Some episodes have multiple chapters. Chapter length will vary. Various ships and relationships will be explored as inspiration strikes.

Rated K+.

* * *

**What Appears to Be  
**

Sonny shuffled his feet in the doorway, attempting to look busy as an officer passed him. The lack of salute didn't even phase the captain. Not with Sonny playing the part of walking advertisement for the Teams.

"I did ~not~ appreciate just how much work you do," Sonny tipped his hat to Davis as she continue cataloguing all the gear. He'd always assumed that once she delivered their shit to the cages, she was finished.

That was a big negative.

"Why don't you go wait on your cage." Davis chuckled, eyes and pen still tracking down her clipboard.

Sonny raised a brow, "I ain't no dog." She lifted her gaze just to smirk at him. "I hear ya," Sonny shot her a finger gun, "Less suspicious." He chose not to see her eyes roll as he left.

It was only a few doors down to Bravo's ready room and Sonny was surprised to see said door open. He peaked around - the light was off, the cages closed. Then his eyes adjusted. Closed, but not empty.

"Aw, hell," Sonny huffed when he saw Clay. He was conked out in his hammock, a duffel underneath. The fuckin' kid… was sleeping in his cage.

Maybe he felt safer there? He'd seen something about dogs adjusting to their kennels to the point of anxiety when they slept elsewhere. Clay ~did~ have that lost puppy look to him.

Sonny closed the door soundlessly and ventured back towards Davis. She was on her last stack.

"I thought you were going to wait in -"

"My little buddy has just moved in. Can't bring myself to wake him on his first night at home." Sonny really hoped it was his first night. He tapped out a quick text to Jason, just in case.

Davis, for her part, barely paused in her scribbling. "Why am I not surprised?" Sonny chuckled. It was cause baby boy was still adrift in his sea of womanly-stoked despair.

"Cause he's a weird little dude." Sonny peaked over her should. The clipboard held sheet of paper that was surely encrypted. Possibly by aliens.

"Cause you did it, three years back," Davis eyed him over her shoulder, "Lived in there a whole month I believe."

Sonny grinned. That had been a very bad breakup - lamps were thrown, tears were cried. Sonny still missed that lamp…

Davis tapped her board, "And we're done. I believe you owe me dinner?" Sonny raised a brow. "You said you haven't been appreciating me, pay up or shut up, cowboy."

-.-

Third night in, Clay couldn't sleep. He stared up at the ceiling with a vague desire to watch late-night infomercials. Reason#14 that staying on base like this was a better call.

His mind drifted to Stella, to Old Dominion. It wasn't too far from his place. He'd probably be running into her again. And again.

"Fuck." Clay swung his legs out of the hammock and stepped into his boots. He heard a laugh that was definitely Sonny's pass by the door.

Clay froze. The rest of the team was suppose to have left already. He shook his shoulders, stretched his arms up. He wasn't doing anything wrong.

In less than 30 minutes he was seated at a bar, beer in hand and eyes on the leggy brunette beside him. She smiled at him

"Hey, I'm Lizzie."

* * *

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	13. You Only Die Once

Some headcanons - all set (and written) directly after each episode. Started with episode 5 of season 2. Some episodes have multiple chapters. Chapter length will vary. Various ships and relationships will be explored as inspiration strikes.

Rated K+.

* * *

**You Only Die Once  
**

Naima gripped the railing of her son's crib harder than necessary. He fussed in his sleep, hands twisting above him as he shifted about.

At least someone was sleeping.

She'd woken up when Ray'd gotten up. 2am. There was a clink of a bottle and Naima closed her eyes.

Missing movie night wasn't a big deal. Missing movie night to drink with his buddies because Davis was going to OCS wasn't even a big deal.

But three months now he'd been dodging the baptism. Something he'd been adamantly and overly enthusiastically involved in for Jameelah.

There was a soft bang from the kitchen. A bottle colliding with the counter harder than intended. Ray's soft voice reverberated, no words, just the soft tones.

Why the hell wouldn't he talk to her?!

Sharif squirmed, a babble screech escaped his mouth. He slept on.

Naima took a breath. She closed her eyes. Lord help her, she would not cry. She wanted to yell, to scream, to remind Ray what was important.

This isn't how it works, of course. It never is.

Ray'll keep it all to himself until it's fixed. Whatever the hell it was. Even then, it was a toss up who he'd talk to: her, or Jason.

She was not jealous of that. She was worried.

Jason wasn't even dealing with his own stuff yet. SEALs were not sharers. Well, except for maybe Sonny. He was an oversharer.

The problem was that Ray was deploying again soon. Last time he'd deployed Ray'd hidden a shoulder injury. Badly. The time, he seemed to be hiding something else. Also badly. With added drinking issue.

Because God did not make his tests easy. Or curve the grades.

"At least one of us can sleep." Naima reached a hand into the crib, ran a finger down her son'd cheek. He gurgled in his sleep. Naima smiled.

Then she stood. Squared her shoulders. And marched into the kitchen. Sharif slept on.

* * *

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	14. Dirt, Dirt, Gucci

Some headcanons - all set (and written) directly after each episode. Started with episode 5 of season 2. Some episodes have multiple chapters. Chapter length will vary. Various ships and relationships will be explored as inspiration strikes.

Rated K+.

* * *

**Dirt, Dirt, Gucci  
**

Jason plopped onto his bed, his hand moved instinctively to his hair.

"Damn it, Ray."

As if he'd by that bullshit of going to a church - he hadn't even tried to be convincing.

Ray was at a bar. Sipping on whiskey gingers.

With one last grumble Jason sat up to grab his laptop. He clicked into Skype, did some quick mental math, and then dialed Emma.

She was frowning at him when she answered. Of course. Mickey grinned, waving like crazy from behind his sister.

"Hey! How're you two doing?"

Mikey immediately launched into a story about his hockey practice that had Jason grinning ear to ear.

-.-.-

"Since when does Sonny Quinn tap out before last call?" Trent snickered as Clay goaded Bravo 3. They were officially on bar #4, Brock had called it after #2 to check on Cerberus.

Trent could tell by the glint in Sonny's eye that Brock was going to wish he hadn't.

Sonny grunted, "Well, little buddy if you're so concerned, how bout you buy the next round?" Clay paled as Sonny walked towards the western bar by the base - drinks were easily twice that of the local bars they'd been floating through.

Trent cackled. Sonny and Clay - the greatest sitcom the Navy would never produce.

* * *

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	15. Paradise Lost

Some headcanons - all set (and written) directly after each episode. Started with episode 5 of season 2. Some episodes have multiple chapters. Chapter length will vary. Various ships and relationships will be explored as inspiration strikes.

Rated K+.

* * *

**Paradise Lost  
**

The ringing of her cell phone cut through the noise of the break room. The other nurses all know her ringtones by now. When the stark trill of Blackburn's rings while Ray is deployed…

"What's happened?" Naima greets her husband's commander with a voice of stone. She swallows down her fear.

"Spenser took a major hit, he's been airlifted to the states."

Naima feels a bit guilty for the relief that washes over her, but then her guts clenching at the realization that Blackburn called her.

"I'll be there when he lands, send me the info," Naima's voice cracks now. Clay's practically a baby - not even a full year on Bravo yet. "There anyone here I should call?"

"Sonny said Swanny's been staying at his place." Blackburn sighs heavily and she hears files flipping. "Get word to Davis if you can."

That was it. No mention of his father. Or his mother. Naima spared a thought to wonder if the former Mrs. Spenser was still alive. Clay'd never mentioned her, refused to even.

"I'll handle it." Naima cleared her throat, "Everyone else okay? Ray?" She thought of his drinking, his anger.

"All fine, a few bumps and bruises, nothing more serious."

Naima nodded to herself, "I'll update you when he lands." And then she's standing in a still silent room with her phone in her hand. It beeps with a text from Blackburn - Clay's ETA.

"Naima?" It's Cynthia, another military wife - army, she thinks - who approaches her. "All clear."

"A man in Ray's unit is coming home." Naima purses her lip as Cynthia nods in understanding, but smiles. "He's just a kid." Cynthia - still wide-eyed and youthful - tilts her head.

Clay is younger than Ray was when she met him.

The realization hits her like a gut punch and Naima wipes furiously at the tears on her face. She takes a steadying break, nods at Cynthia, "I'm good." And then she swipes at her phone to find Swanny's number.

* * *

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	16. Payback

Some headcanons - all set (and written) directly after each episode. Started with episode 5 of season 2. Some episodes have multiple chapters. Chapter length will vary. Various ships and relationships will be explored as inspiration strikes.

Rated K+.

* * *

**Payback  
**

When Jason's phone rang his hand shot out to grab it. He grumbled and swore as his fingers hit the coffee table.

Friggin couches.

"Hayes." Jason glanced at his watch. Midnight. Which meant noon, yesterday.

"Jason, I'm sorry to call-"

Jason's back straightened, "Naima? What's wrong?"

Naima's chuckle was watery, "Is Ray okay?"

"Ray's-" Jason didn't think fine was the right word, "I just saw him a few hours ago."

"He's not with you?" Naima's voice pitched. Jason winced.

He pulled his hand through his hair, "I'm not in the barracks." Naima breathed, audibly, and then he heard the sound of a baby squealing.

"Alright, I'm sorry to bother -"

"Never a bother, Naima," Jason cut her off. The baby fussed. "How's RJ?"

There was a pause, "Practically walking." Jason perked up. Naima laughed, less watery this time, when he exclaimed. "I'll send you a video, huh?"

"Yes, ma'am." Jason grinned, "Jameelah good?"

"Perfect, between the two of them I can barely keep up." Naima sighed, took a breath. Jason sat up straight again, "Tell Ray to call me, would ya?"

"You got it, Naima."

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	17. Medicate and Isolate

Some headcanons - all set (and written) directly after each episode. Started with episode 5 of season 2. Some episodes have multiple chapters. Chapter length will vary. Various ships and relationships will be explored as inspiration strikes.

Rated K+.

* * *

**Medicate and Isolate  
**

Clay wasn't asleep, but he didn't get up when he heard the knock. Swanny's stuff - his post it notes, his laptop, everything - it was all scattered around his living room between him and the door.

He heard the lock turning, the door opening. And then Naima was in his doorway, looking at him sprawled out in his bed.

"What're you doing here?" Clay turned his head to look at her. She was wearing scrubs and Clay was fairly certain this was the first time he'd seen her with her hair up.

Her forehead was creased with worry, "Sonny called, said he sensed a disturbance in the force." Clay chuckled and it warped quickly into a sob.

Next thing he knew he was crying into Naima's shoulder, warbling on about Swanny. She wrapped an arm around him, a hand ran over his back. Up and down.

Her voice was soothing, even if Clay wasn't listening to her words. Naima rocked him slightly, "I've got ya, Clay."

Later, not even that much later, Clay'd be itchy with shame at the way he blubbered all over Bravo 2's wife. In the moment, he clung to her as if she was his mother - or, better yet, a mother that cared about him.

He appreciated it much less when she shoved him into a shower in his boxers and called Sonny to tell him what'd happened.

"I got his voicemail," Naima helped him from the bathroom to the bed. Her hand rubbed at his neck as she walked with him. She'd kindly left pants on the toilet for him so his embarrassment was lessened. Slightly.

Clay easied the shirt Naima handed him over his head. "I guess when Sonny's right…"

"He's really right." Naima looked towards the living room, "Need help cleaning up?" Clay shook his head.

"No, I'll, uh, get to it."

Naima patted his shoulder, "Well, best way forward is always forward, Clay." Naima kissed his forehead, as if he were actually her kid. "You call if you need anything."

"Yeah, thanks Naima." Clay smiled under the laser eyes she focused on him. "I promise."

When the door clicked shut, Clay reached for his phone. He clicked 3 on his speed-dial. Sonny didn't pick up, but his voicemail message made him smile.

"Your jedi senses are creepy, Obi-Wan. Call me back."

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	18. Rock Bottom

Some headcanons - all set (and written) directly after each episode. Started with episode 5 of season 2. Some episodes have multiple chapters. Chapter length will vary. Various ships and relationships will be explored as inspiration strikes.

Rated K+.

* * *

**Rock Bottom  
**

"Ma'am," Clay greeted her with a smirk and a lazy salute. Davis shook her head.

She pulled the insolent brat in for a hug, "How's the PT going?"

"Doc says I'm on track to operate again," Spenser shrugged. His smile was tight and Davis narrowed her eyes. "I'm good Davis, promise."

"For the record, you're a bad liar," Davis pointed a finger at him, "But I'm going to let it go for now on account of you're buying dinner."

"I'm doing what now?" Clay chuckled as they started towards the exit. "I'm just a lowly enlisted man, Ensign."

Davis rolled her eyes. She nodded goodbyes as they passed by her classmates, celebrating with parents and partners. She gritted her teeth.

Clay knocked her shoulder as they disembarked, "You're not much of a liar either." It wasn't a long walk to his car - they'd set aside parking for the ceremony. Clay didn't push.

"I invited my sister," Davis sighed.

"I didn't know you had a sister." Clay cleared his throat - a truly lame attempt to hide his awkwardness as he climbed into his Camaro.

Davis got into the car, "Well, guess she still doesn't want anything to do with me, so…"

"Her loss," Clay was quick to speak. Davis offered him a smile and he started the car. He pulled out, started driving into the city.

"Where are we going?" Davis raises a brow as they passed a familiar street, "Shouldn't I be picking if I'm paying?"

Clay snorted, "Trust me, Davis, you'll like this place." Davis narrowed her eyes on him, but Spenser didn't even glance her way. Smart. She'd have gotten it out of him otherwise.

It wasn't long till they pulled into the parking lot of a familiar bistro. An Italian joint that Davis had once mentioned liking back in the day. She'd mentioned it to Sonny.

"Spenser…" Davis kept her voice low and suspicious.

Clay grinned at her, the cheeky little shit, and got out without saying a word. Davis followed suit, with a grumble and a quiet curse.

The place was just as Davis remembered it: quiet, cozy, with lots of booths, and jazzy music. A hostess led them to a booth with a window and handed them their menus with no lesson than three attempts to flirt with Clay.

Davis couldn't decided whether to be insulted by that or not before a man in a white button down showed up to take their drink order. She ordered a beer and decided to let it go.

"Gonna explain how you knew I liked this place?" Davis eyed Clay with low eyebrows.

He looked pointedly out the window, "We should go to the park after, I'm suppose to be building my stamina back up."

Davis bit back a joke and looked at her menu. Pasta and bread, yes please. She ordered something with cheese so she could pretend it had protein and then pulled the details of his PT regiment from Clay.

It was pleasant, a bit like a hug after a long day.

"Ensign Davis?" The served came up with a curious expression.

"Yes?" She tilted her head. Clay'd already given him his card for the bill.

The server smiled and then beckoned someone over, "A delivery just came for you."

Delivery was a slight understatement.

Davis couldn't even see the currier's face through the large bouquet of flowers. The vase was set in front of her the table. Every flower was navy blue. Every single one.

The card was tucked in between some roses and Davis almost started crying when she saw the name. She did laugh.

~ I ain't much for salutes, but I'll be happy to call you ma'am. Sonny. ~

"I knew it." Davis looked around the flowers at Clay. He was hiding an amused grin behind his palm. "That crazy cowboy set this whole thing up didn't he?"

"No idea what your talking about." Clay nodded. Davis rolled her eyes.

"You're walking at least a mile for lying."

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	19. My Life for Yours

Some headcanons - all set (and written) directly after each episode. Started with episode 5 of season 2. Some episodes have multiple chapters. Chapter length will vary. Various ships and relationships will be explored as inspiration strikes.

Rated K+.

Ray character study.

* * *

**My Life for Yours  
**

Ray was strapped down on the plane ride home. The doctor wanted him resting. And immobile. Which sucked. Staring up at the riveted ceiling. But it gave him time to think, time to reflect.

It wasn't God he'd been angry with. It wasn't God he felt distant with. It was himself. His actions.

And kneeling there, a prayer on his lips and his brothers coming for him. That's when he knew.

God had never left him. God had been fighting for him, for his soul. He was in that woman praying, in Christine at the bar, and in his teammates coming over that ridge.

Naima was right - as usual. Ray was not himself without God. Lord did he deserve the biggest I told you so lecture.

Ray chuckled to himself, heard the slur in his voice. Doc's drugs were kicking in. About damn time.

He tried to blink away his fuzzy vision, but found himself swallowed up by the darkness behind his eyelids.

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	20. Never Out of the Fight

Some headcanons - all set (and written) directly after each episode. Started with episode 5 of season 2. Some episodes have multiple chapters. Chapter length will vary. Various ships and relationships will be explored as inspiration strikes.

Rated K+.

FF and I are having a difference of opinion on formatting, so if this chapter gets confusing I suggest you check out the Ao3 counterpart.

* * *

**Never Out of the Fight**

"How am I doing?" Jason looked at the bartender as the man poured his whiskey. Jason swallowed down a sip as he contemplated the question.

Bravo had been saved - many times over - and Clay would be returning to duty within a month. He'd managed to swing it so both Emma and Mikey could follow their dreams, for now. Everything piece seemed to be falling into place.

"Can't complain," Jason finally said as he sat his glass back down. The bartender raised a brow at his now empty glass, Jason nodded for him to fill it up. "Nope. Can't conplain."

There was a nagging itch in the back of his head that told him something was up with Mandy though. And Sonny'd been acting a little strange - or too normal, depending upon one's perspective.

"New chapters are always a little awkward at first," Jason grinned at the man, sipped at this second whiskey a little slower.

The bartender leaned back against the back of the bar, waited. Jason chuckled, rolled his shoulders back and stretched.

"Still figuring out what my next mission is." Besides finding a new place before Mikey got home in August. He had three months, almost, to worry about that.

"Bullshit." The whiskey did not get a second refill. "You're lonely, looking for a fix." The man leaned forward, eyebrows lowered, "Call your team before you do something stupid, eh Boss?"

Jason smirked up, "That an order Master Chief?" That earned him a slap with a bar towel. "Understood."

"And don't you even think of driving." Jason dropped his keys back in his pocket and went to sit by the jukebox. He pulled his phone out.

The Bravo group message was silent. They hadn't texted since before Swanny's funeral.

How's RJ?

The, near immediate, response was a video of Ray's little man following the phone with his push wheel. RJ'd be walking solo within the week.

I place 10$ on Thursday for first steps.

Jason chuckled at Trent's response.

Friday.

Saturday

Wednesday

Monday

Jason pursed his lips, waited as the app informed him Ray was typing.

Y'all are putting undue pressure on my baby.  
You should be ashamed of yourselves.  
And obviously the boy's smart enough to walk on the Lord's day.

Jason snorted. Typed out his own response

I'm telling Naima on all of you.

A new influx of messages arrived shortly and Jason burst out laughing. He drew a few looks.

That's cold Jace.

Traitor!

Calls for a coup.

Jason grinned as he watched Trent and Sonny discuss possible methods for deposing him. From an online petition to staged blackmail.

Wouldn't that make Ray Bravo One and Sonny Two?

Clay's query brought forth a quick about face.

Hell no, never again!  
I take it back, boss.

I sure as ain't dealing with a responsible Sonny. That shit will put me in therapy.

Jason taped out a quick comment, watched his men respond with gusto.

So what I'm hearing is that Sonny can never leave Bravo?

His favorite response was from Ray.

Or we could just make sonny Bravo One and watch the fallout with some popcorn.

Even Blackburn would mutiny.

Y'all are a bunch of haters.

Jason breathed out, nice and slow, as he slouched back in his chair. He kicked up his feet and flagged the waitress.

"Burget and fries, please." He smiled at the woman as his phone buzzed on the table. She brought him a beer while he waited for his food.

You closed on the house today, right boss?

Jason stared at that question for longer than he wanted to admit. The fact that his team didn't comment meant they all wanted to know too. Dang Ray and his mind reading.

Right after I got back from NY.  
Officially homeless till I sign a lease.

And that brought forth many couch offers, which Jason shook his head off.

Do I look dumb enough to turn down Naima's cooking to any of you?

Yes.

Yup.

Totally, boss.

You want an honest answer?

Two words: diaper duty.

Jason rolled his eyes. He'd walked right into to that one.

Maybe I'll just stay with Full Metal and let you all fester in your shame.

Go, risk tetnesis. I'll laugh.

Raymond Perry. King of Comebacks.

Point. Match.

His burger and fries was delivered and Jason set his phone down. He felt significantly lighter than he had when he walked into the bar.

A whiskey was set in front of him, beside his beer.

"Told ya so."

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